


It's a cold and it's a broken

by Cheesecloth



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Sickfic, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesecloth/pseuds/Cheesecloth
Summary: “It’s always been like this for me, angel. Cold ruins me. It’s probably the mixture of human, demon, and snake. Terrible mixture, mind you, oi, what’re you doing?”“I’m checking your temperature, obviously,” Aziraphale said.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 167
Collections: Author's Faves





	It's a cold and it's a broken

It wasn't that he was powerless.

Crowley just found, over his millennia of existence, that cold winters tend to...weaken him.

He felt his human corporation begin its tell-tale sign of shivering uncontrollably.

Now, usually, he'd be able to ease this symptom by heading to Hell and curling himself between two jet streams of hellfire for a week. 

But he couldn't do that now, could he?

In the past, there had been quite a number of years where he couldn't leave his station on earth to warm himself profusely. 

They were among the most uncomfortable stretches of months of his existence. 

He'd usually hole himself in the nearest, vaguely warm household. The heat of the hearths was nothing quite like hellfire, but it had to suffice. 

He'd always had to put his assignment off for a while because it wasn't like he'd be able to get up and carry out his elaborate temptations anyway.

After all, once the shivering comes in, he's succumbed to an incredibly tedious fever that he could never manage to miracle away. 

It would eventually leave him bedridden. His human body was doing its best to combat both its serpent and demon ancestry, and with every winter it began to fail. 

Crowley groaned presently at the bitter cold winds that enveloped him and the angel as they sat on their bench feeding ducks, months after the apoca-wasn't.

All Aziraphale had to say to it was a slight wiggle and a "My, winds are something today." 

But Crowley was mulling over his options, too busy and teeth clattering too much to answer back. 

They hadn't separated once since they won custody of the earth. It had been the most relaxing and free either of them have ever felt. Aziraphale, who usually had avoided casual touch in favor of remaining Jesus-distance away, had begun to lean into Crowley, or hold his hand, even! 

Crowley could either give that up and resign himself to his flat, or he could spill everything to Aziraphale, and let himself be vulnerable.

Now, this demon was exceptionally clever. Of course, he could just tell Aziraphale that he needed to leave for a few months and warm himself in another hemisphere. But Crowley barely spared it a thought. There was nothing that would make him leave Soho now. They may be relaxed and free, but what if Aziraphale was in trouble? What if Heaven suddenly decided to retaliate? 

His decision was made, then, while Aziraphale peered worryingly at the shivering demon beside him. Exposing his vulnerabilities to Aziraphale will be nothing compared to his new freedom to stay glued at Aziraphale's side. 

And since Aziraphale would never leave his bookshop and just flee with him south for the winter months, he would remain here, in Soho, with his angel, while his body failed, because above anything else, Crowley trusts him. 

He trusts Aziraphale so much.

"Crowley-" Aziraphale said, voice soft and unsure.

"Can we go back to the bookshop, angel? Got something to tell you." 

"Oh, absolutely my dear! But, you see, I have been sitting here, listening to the ducks..."

"Yeah?" Crowley looked the angel up and down, stumped for reason. 

"Well, the ducks have hushed quite a bit ago, Crowley. They're... they're on the other side of the lake! But you were still leaving bread on the floor... it's a right mess, mind you. But as I said, I have been sitting here, listening, but there are no more ducks." He looked at Crowley meaningfully, like it had any discernible meaning. 

"Er, yeah. Suppose I have been feeding nonexistent ducks. I'm littering, since its a properly demonic thing to do." He grinned. Aziraphale wasn't placated nor amused.

"It's bread, Crowley. It'll be eaten eventually. Hardly littering, my dear boy," Aziraphale grumbled under his breath. He turned completely towards Crowley on the bench now. His subtle warmth luring Crowley closer. "No, 'littering with bread' is hardly a demonic thing to do at all. And neither, I'm sure, is shivering. You're shivering Crowley! Since when do you shiver! Are you alright? Has Hell cut you off!" 

Aziraphale quickly dons on his ethereal halo and searches Crowley's cold form. He settles down at whatever it is he sees.

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale says when there's nothing for Crowley to say. "So it isn't that. But what is it, Crowley? It's like there's ice to you. No warmth at all! Now, why is your corporation doing that?" His blue eyes searched desperately for answers, his worries not at all abided. 

"Can we go to the bookshop now?" Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale blinked and then stood rather quickly. If he'd been at all human he'd have surely been dizzy. 

"Up with you, shivering serpent. I've warmed the hearth in my flat above the shop. We shall head there immediately!" 

And without waiting for a reply, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and they were quite suddenly in the angel's flat. 

"My car!" Crowley whined. He didn't have much energy left to do anything about it though, instead hurrying into a tight-knit sprawl that only a cold and spindly serpent could accomplish on the armchair beside the hearth's fire. 

"Oh don't worry your head about that, Crowley. What do you take me for? No, you can be rest assured that the Bentley is safely, and perhaps a little illegally, parked outside my shop. No worries at all." 

Crowley deigned to answer with a snort before slinking just a little closer to the fire. It was nothing like the fires of Hell, but compared to the wind chill outside, it'll do splendidly. 

"I'll make some cocoa for the both of us," Aziraphale decided, "And when I return, you'll be sure to answer my question?"

Crowley opened an eye- when did that close? Ay caramba, he's definitely not feeling well -and peered back at Aziraphale. "Anything," he answered honestly. 

"Right, good." Aziraphale adjusted his coat mindlessly before shifting off to tinker in his kitchen. 

Crowley found himself drifting, a little, even amongst his shivering. It was likely a necessary action, for his body, because he was beginning to feel a fever coming on. 

A comfortingly familiar scent wafted from the kitchen, and Aziraphale emerged with two pleasant cocoas. 

"Sit up my dear." 

Crowley groaned and cursed under his breath until he managed to find a more suitable sprawl. "Give it here," he pleaded softly for the warmth of the beverage. 

Aziraphale spared him an odd look and gave it to him, watching the demon carefully cup it and impossibly wrap the rest of his body around his drink. A snake, indeed.

Once Crowley took in a few necessary gulps so that the heat of it centered around his chest, Aziraphale deigned that it was time for some answers. 

"Why are you shivering, Crowley?" 

Crowley coughed, and it alarmed the angel immensely. "It's not just shivering, angel. 'Ve got a fever too." 

Aziraphale sputtered. He leered angrily at the fire, which startled and burned hotter to please him. 

"And why on earth would you be so ill, Crowley? I've looked at you thoroughly and I've found nothing to suggest that this was the doing of your lot!" 

Crowley sighed, taking just the one more sip for an ounce of warm courage. 

"It's always been like this for me, angel. Cold ruins me. It's probably the mixture of human, demon, and snake. Terrible mixture, mind you, oi, what're you doing?" 

"I'm checking your temperature, obviously," Aziraphale said. His hand was warm on Crowley's forehead, and it was soothing too. The angel's fingers slowly pulled forward until they were carding in Crowley's hair. He repeated the motion a great number of times, with absolutely no complaint from Crowley. "You know, I saw them do that in the moving pictures, but I'm not quite sure what I was supposed to be checking for, exactly."

Crowley scoffed softly. "What they'd do is check to feel if the forehead is warmer than the average human body temperature." 

"Oh? How do you know this? They didn't quite explain it in the films. They just said 'burning hot, quite a fever'." His movements were slower now. Aziraphale found himself savoring the feel of soft locks that slid luxuriously apart between his fingers, and he quite adored the equally soft and quiet murmurs of sated approval from the demon below him. 

"I know," Crowley croaked, his voice thick with both astounding pleasure and the illness that threatened to be the physical end of him each cold winter, "I know because there were a few humans that found me, sometimes, and took it upon themselves to watch over me. Got a lot of them to thank for making sure I didn't discorporate every year. Boss sure wouldn't have liked that."

Aziraphale hummed. "No, surely not." His other hand delved low until it was cupping Crowley's chin, and he gently raised it until they were looking eye to eye. Oh. The vermillion yellow of Crowley's eyes stretched until it consumed. It made his slitted iris look rather lonely in the middle. Nevertheless, it was quite a beautiful and humbling sight. "I know we've been enemies for a long time-"

"Have we?" Crowley purred in amusement, swallowing down familiar bile that had nothing to do with the cold sickness. "I rather thought we were friends from the beginning?"

"Oh alright," Aziraphale huffed in surrender, and the admission of it soothed Crowley immediately. "So we've never quite been enemies. But even if we had, I'm quite proud of you." 

Crowley made an incomprehensible noise. "For wot?" 

Aziraphale smiled down at him, his hand still caressing gently from forehead to ginger hair. "For this, my dear. I know it can't have been easy, deciding to share this er... weakness... with me." Aziraphale's eyes glanced away for a better word but could not come up with one. He found himself lucky that Crowley's doting expression hadn't changed. The poor demon probably didn't even realize he was doing it. 

"'Sss nothing," Crowley leaned further into the touch. "I trusssst you." 

Aziraphale really had to look away now, internally cursing at the demon's affectionate display. The gentle and ever familiar wafting rays of love emulated from his spindly form. Overwhelmed but inspired, Aziraphale folded himself until he could kiss the demon neatly on the tip of his nose. 

There was no other way to handle the fresh onslaught of it but to melt speechlessly into the angel's arms, which now held him in a tight embrace. His angelic warmth seeped into him quickly, and Crowley found it intoxicating. 

"'Zzziraphale," Crowley whined adoringly into Aziraphale's chest. 

"Yes, my dear?" 

"Thank you... for warming me-" 

Aziraphale felt the demon nuzzle into him and the angel hummed pleasantly. "It's absolutely a pleasure-" 

"-'Nd also I love you." The demon continued to mumble. It was a soft admission but there's no way Aziraphale hadn't heard it. 

Aziraphale, for his part, crumbled inelegantly. "Oh! My darling dearest! O-okay! Er, yes! Quite splendid! Impeccable, even!"

"Er, what're you doing now?" 

Aziraphale stared at him, or the top of his head which was all he could see, his mouth agape but soon closed to halt the embarrassing string on nonsense. He gulped. "I love you too, my dear." He wanted to catch up to Crowley, this time. He was ever so fast, but this time Aziraphale is realizing that he's just ever so slow. The demon shouldn't have to wait for him to catch up while Aziraphale launguidly strolls sideways to watch the ducks- Why ducks? What is it that catches an immortal's attention so much that it has to be ducks? -Nevermind, enough about ducks. 

"You wot!" 

"I love you too," Aziraphale says with more conviction. 

Crowley parts from the embrace to smile tearfully at the angel. He's still very cold hands reach up and hold Aziraphale's face with such tenderness. The love is now oozing from him with not a care abound, so Aziraphale forgets about cold fingers instantly. 

It's only natural, that they lean into one another again. This time their lips meet, and they're both humming their delights at one another like cows. 

Crowley pulls away in stark laughter. 

"My dear?" 

"'Sss nothing, I promissse, I love you, I-" 

Aziraphale swoops in for another swift press of the lips, wondering at the softness with a soaring heart, before leaning back to watch his dazed counterpart.

Said dazed companion melts again, his brilliant yellow eyes drink in Aziraphale's attention. 

"You warm me," Crowley murmurs, and it's a lovely admission on its own. But Aziraphale can't help but feel full-hearted, his own love crashing against his chest in an effort to consume Crowley, head to toe.

"Oh?" He places his hand back into Crowley's hair to resume the mutually pleasant caressing and he startles. "Crowley! Your fever! I can surely feel a difference now! Burning hot, that's what that felt like before, but oh! Now you feel quite different?" 

"Oh shit, you warm me," Crowley wonders aloud. He looks down at himself, broken halo materializing in another plane to investigate the phenomena. "Azzziraphale! Seriously, holy shi-" 

"Must you keep saying that? Anyhow, what is it? What happened?" 

"You!" Crowley accuses, and Aziraphale instinctually pulls a hand to his chest and readies a 'My word!' in defense. "You warmed me, Aziraphale! I don't know if it was your angelic warmth or the love but you eased my illness greatly! Look! No shivering!" He trailed a hand on his own arm with the lightest touch but it was too warm for gooseflesh to appear.

"Oh my-"

"Right? This is amazing! Usually, it takes me a week's time in hellfire to get this warm again and to keep me relatively heated for the rest of winter but look at-"

"You can feel my love?" 

Crowley's mouth instantly shuts and looks at his angel in astonishment. "E-ever since we said 'I love you' to each other, yeah. Was like a gate opened up and I felt everything."

"Everything?" 

"Everything." 

"Oh my!" 

"Guess this means you're stuck with me now," Crowley said smugly, hope shining in his eyes. "If I'm gonna survive future winters with you, I'm going to survive them _with you_." He looked hesitant now. "Is that okay?"

"Heavens- Of course, dearest! It would certainly be remiss of me, and perhaps even cruel to the both of us, if I were to say no- I want to spend every winter with you, and all the other seasons is what I'm saying... If you'd like to, of course-"

"I want that." The curl of his lip sent Aziraphale's heart hammering. 

"Then it shall be." The angel whispered and kissed Crowley's head once more. And there will be many more. 

Crowley snuggled into the angel. The armchair had become big enough for the both of them at some point, but he wasn't sure who'd done it. It didn't matter, anyway. He couldn't find the focus for it. 

It's quite warm now, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I felt so fucking cold and sick that I was like, hey! I should write something about a character being cold and sick! And they get better! Because then that means I'll get better! And I'll have a finished fic at the end of it!
> 
> So yeah, I wrote some needed fluff.
> 
> Edit: There’s something to be said about writing while you’re sick but half-lucid. I can tell you all with certainty that every time I re-read this, I do not remember writing it at all, so its like reading someone else’s work. Even if that someone else is sick!me. Funnily enough though...I’m editing this note while sick again


End file.
